


Punk England x Butcher Reader

by Gold_Blooded



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: F/M, Humor, Miniseries, Mystery, Police Officer Alfred F. Jones to the rescue, Psycho, Punk, Punk England (Hetalia), Reader-Insert, So I Married An Ax Murderer, Wedding, butcher - Freeform, kinda scary, maybe yandere?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-20
Updated: 2018-03-20
Packaged: 2019-04-04 23:24:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14031123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gold_Blooded/pseuds/Gold_Blooded
Summary: A seemingly dangerous punk, Arthur Kirkland, makes his living by rocking out with his band-mates at nightclubs and providing for his many siblings. But his usual routine was disrupted when he met an attractive woman at a butcher's shop...





	1. Chapter 1

The echoing sound of club music vibrates the narrow street and worms its way into every crack and crevice. Shaking even the tallest and mightiest of buildings, its bass penetrates every solid object. Like a flame the night is slowly burning out, extinguishing all the hype and energy that gathers in this city. The weekend has brought alive the monster that thrives on the alcohol and parties, satisfying its appetite for another week. It may regret it in the morning as its head bangs, ears screech and stomach spews; but the satisfaction is too great!

 

Especially with the performance happening at the club which was adorned with a fresh poster that hung off on the side of the building that read: “Arthur Kirkland’s Rock Band: Murder At The Cathedral - Playing Tonight!”

 

For the crowd inside the club looked up at the man onstage with a loose Union Jack T-Shirt, regular jeans, a black electric guitar strapped around his neck, hanging loosely on his side and from what most people could see, he adorned shaggy blond hair. He waved to the crowd and so did his bandmates. There was no special introduction, just the sudden start of music.

 

It started with the ominous strums of a guitar that matched the pace of the drums before it picked up. The bass riveted throughout the audience, making everyone feel the vibrations of such sonic prowess. The lead singer's British accent disappeared when he sang, yet it made his voice sound beautifully dark. The blue lights that reflected off of his skin made him look oddly angelic despite his satanic black clothes.

_She had something to confess to_  
_But you don't have the time_  
_So look the other way_

 

It was impressive how he could change his vocals from a low gruff tone to a soft, slightly higher note.

_You will wait until it's over_  
_To reveal what you'd never shown her_  
_Too little much too late_

 

Arthur didn't just play his electric guitar, he rocked it. And he didn't just rock the guitar, he rocked the whole house. Everything vibrated when he turned up that amp and the whole cul-de-sac got treated to his solo renditions whether they liked it or not. The crowd showed its appreciation by exhibiting each individual’s excitement, people move like enchanting shoals of fish.

 

All chanting for the British punk and talented rockstar, Arthur Kirkland.

 

\----------------------

 

Despite his popularity and gruff appearance, he still carries out errands like any normal person would.

 

Zooming through the streets on a motorcycle, Arthur finally slows to a stop in front of a shop in front in the happening part of town where shops thrived and people of all sorts of cultural backgrounds …..

 

The rider takes off his helmet revealing his disheveled blond hair and jade green eyes. He was rather annoyed since he couldn’t find a store that sold haggis. Not that he blamed the stores, haggis was a repulsive dish according to him but he is out searching for it on behalf of his brother’s request.

 

“The things I do…” the lean motorcyclist mumbled with his Brittish accent lacing his words. He swings open the door of the butcher store, a bell chiming in the process.

 

The meat shop was as white as death. It smelt of blood and sawdust and its tiled interior offered a refuge from the heat without. It's a small, hip shop selling specialty meats from around the world. Arthur looks around until an attractive woman in her early twenties, wearing a blood-stained smock enters, holding a cleaver in one hand and something bloody in the other. Being the punk he is, Arthur couldn’t help but discreetly flirt with the woman by being affable.

 

“I’ve come at a bad time haven’t I?” Arthur smirked. The (h/c) beauty gave the punk a confused and weary look. The Brit continued to joke, “Did you dig a makeshift shallow grave for your victim, too?” 

 

The woman’s (e/c) eyes widened in surprise until she looked at the items she was holding and caught on the joke “Oh! Haha, no. This is just an Icelandic shank.” 

 

“Sure it is. I bet it goes well with fava beans and chianti.” Arthur made her laugh with his Silence of the Lambs reference.

 

“Can I help you?” she asked after calming down.

 

“Yes. Do you have haggis?”

 

“Yes, we do. It's over here in our Scottish Cuts section. One?” Arthur nodded. The (h/c) woman goes to the section of meat under glass flying a Scottish flag, with haggis and various cuts of Scottish meat. The enchanting butcher rounds the counter and wraps up the haggis with a large "PRUSSIAN VENISON" sign behind her. She rang up his order with a smile, “That'll be fifteen, seventy-nine. Will there be anything else?”

 

“Yes. I know it's a long shot, but you wouldn't by any chance happen to have any Prussian Venison?”

 

“Now where in the world would I get Prussian Venison?” she teased, charming Arthur.

 

\----------------------

 

Another night and another performance. Arthur's throat felt tingly still after belting out the lyrics to his song to a hyper audience, but cracking open a cool one helped assuage his vocal cords.

 

He was thankful for his bandmates; they were hard workers and just as passionate about their love of music. He also needs to thank them for allowing him to put haggis in their shared cooler for their beer. Arthur cringed at the thought of the meat; he honestly has no idea how everyone else in his family manages to eat this crap. 

 

Speaking of his family, Arthur had finally arrived at a house where his siblings all lived; Allistair, Seamus, Dylan, Rosie, and Peter. Arthur had to move out since it felt too crowded for him and had a small apartment. But every other night, he drops by to check on his family especially the little ones. Even though there are three other siblings capable of looking over Peter and Rosie, he didn't trust Dylan and Seamus who were notorious twins and always scheming something. Allistair can be serious at times, but for the most part, Arthur didn't like the fact how he habitually smoked cigars in front of the kids and was too laid back. 

 

'God, I sound like an uptight mother,' Arthur thought.

 

He took out the keys to the small house and unlocked the door to come home with a foul-smelling paper bag in hand. "Oi, I'm here," he announced tiredly to the house and was greeted back with variations of hellos.

 

In the living room sat Dylan, Seamus, and Allistair who was lazily smoking a cigar watching football on television. It was Scotland vs. the United States so everyone knows that Allistair would either be celebrating or crying a river after it was over.

 

Arthur's ears perked up at the sound of soft footfalls coming down from the steps and saw two pajama-clad children looking at him excitedly. One was a young girl of small stature with her brown hair is fastened in a short and curly side-pony. And the boy sported blond, tousled hair similar to Arthur's, and light blue eyes.

 

"Hi Arthur!" they said in unison.

 

"Hey, Rosie. Peter," he greeted back. Peter just excitedly moved his way into the living room and laid on the floor watching the football match unravel. 

 

“Peter, move your head!” Allistair ordered.

 

The young, blue-eyed blond scowled back before immediately obeying him. Allistair saw this as an opportunity to further bother Peter, “Look at the size of that boy’s head. It’s like an orange on a toothpick.”

 

“Hey,” Arthur interjected, “You’ll give him a complex!”

 

“Oh, that's a huge noggin!” Allistair replied defensively “It's a virtual planetoid. Has its own weather system!”

 

Either Peter didn’t care, or he was just ignoring the teasing since he was still nonchalantly watching the TV. That is until his head got in the way of Allistair’s view again. “Head! Move!”

 

Rosie was still standing by the stairs until her brown eyes fell upon the bag clutched in Arthur's grip. "What'd you bring?"

 

"It's haggis." Arthur moved to the kitchen and Rosie followed.

 

"Oh, I hadn't had that in a while and-" she cut herself off when she opened the bag and inhaled the meat’s pungent odor.

 

"Ugh. Actually, I hate them. But Allistair might li-" 

 

An obnoxious “GOAL!” echoed from the living room from all four brothers sitting there. Rosie rolled her eyes at the insane amount of enthusiasm her older brothers were exuding (if it was a soccer match involving Australia, it would be a different story) and moved towards a bowl of fruit sitting on the kitchen’s countertop, grasping a banana and a pear.

 

"Would you like some juice? I saved up my allowance and bought a better blender..." Arthur and his little sister both glanced at the shiny, brand new blender and reflected on how their old blender was actually a fan pointing downwards and taped to a bowl. "I actually read that this juice is really good for you from the paper." Rosie continued.

 

"The paper?" Arthur repeated. "As in the Washington Post?"

 

Rosie looked around the kitchen to see if the newspaper was resting on the counters. Realizing it wasn't in the room she shouted towards the living room where her brothers were at, "Can one of you bring in the paper?"

 

“Alright, bonnie lass,” Allistair replied to his sister before he turned to Peter, “Head! Paper! Now! Move that melon of yours if you can haul that gargantuan cranium about!”

 

Peter groaned in response and reluctantly listened to his older, red-head sibling. He grabbed the newspaper off of the end table, came in the kitchen and quickly tossed the paper on the kitchen island before running back to the living room so he wouldn’t miss anything. 

 

Arthur leaned over the counter to read the newspaper only to suppress a groan of disapproval; it was one of those newspapers that only conspiracy theorists read. "Rosie, why do you refer to The Enquirer ...as "the paper"? The paper contains facts." 

 

"This paper contains facts because it has the eighth-highest circulation in the whole wide world," she argued back. 

 

Arthur had to restrain rolling his eyes. Of course, its own news source will say something like that to gain credibility. 

 

Rosie flipped to the front page of the newspaper and points to the headline "Look here: Pregnant Man Gives Birth." she read aloud, “That must be a fact. They even have a picture.”

 

Arthur had to stifle a laugh at the headline and the unconvincing picture of a man with a large belly, posing as if he's getting maternity pictures. Rosie was smart - probably, the smartest out of all of his other siblings - but she was still innocent and didn't quite know how biology works.

 

\----------------------

 

A week had passed, and again, Allistair had a craving for haggis. But this time, the punk was more than willing to go since a fair maiden worked there. He couldn’t get enough of those (h/c) locks, her (e/c) eyes, and her beautiful smile. He was thankful he had an excuse to see her once more.

 

Upon his arrival, he noticed that the meat shop was packed with people with all sorts of ethnic backgrounds yelling what they want to the woman behind the counter.

 

Herr (h/c) hair seemed frizzy in an imperfectly perfect way and offering too many apologetic smiles to the impatient customers as you bustled around chopping and wrapping meat. That is until her (e/c) made contact with emerald ones.

 

Caught staring, Arthur cleared his throat before introducing himself, “Hi.”

 

"Hi," she smiled back as you worked the cash register,“Haggis, right?”

 

Her words took a while to process in the Brit’s head. “Yeah, I'm the guy who ordered the haggis,” he said sheepishly back, not knowing how to talk all of the sudden.

 

“Can I ask you a question?” she asked.

 

“Sure,” Arthur replied eagerly.

 

“Do you even like haggis?”

 

“No, I think it’s repellent. In fact, I think all Scottish cuisine is based on a dare.” That answer made her let out a bell-like laugh which caused Arthur to feel proud of his witty remark. 

 

Suddenly, the stressed face came back as one vexed customer started to bark orders at her and ordered her to hurry up, “Sorry, I have to go.”

 

Arthur wasn’t going to let this chance slide. He quickly went around the crowd of people and around the counter to see the lovely dame put some raw meat through the grinder. “It's busy, yeah?”

 

“It's insane today,” she said exasperatedly but still with a gentle smile on your face.

 

Arthur rubbed the back of his neck, “You know, I actually used to work at a butcher shop, too. I can help you.”

 

“Great! I'd love some help. What's your name?”

 

“Arthur,” he held out his hand.

 

“[Name],” she gladly took his hand and shook it. “Could you get four porterhouses?”

 

“No problem, love.”

 

For the few hours you spent together, the pair were able to get orders out efficiently but with a few mishaps as Arthur showed off his playful, punk side. He at one point pretended that his hand was mutilated by hiding his hand in his long sleeves and dangled some raw meat from the sleeve and managed to scare away an elderly couple in the shop. 

 

He also recreated the notable scene from Alien with a piece of meat, pretending it clawed its way out of his stomach. Then, somehow, accidentally launched it onto one of the female customers who shrieked in response and left the shop. He turned to give [Name] a sheepish look, making her laugh.

 

The shop was empty and (most of) the customers were satisfied, and before they knew it, it was closing time. You gratefully walked over to the glass door, flipped the OPEN sign and high-fived Arthur for the work you had done. Instead of just heading home, though, the butcher and the punk decided to extend their time together by walking around town and strolling through a park. 

 

“Thanks for helping me out at the butcher shop. You were really nice,” [Name] walked alongside Arthur, holding the hotdog he just bought for her.

 

“Oh, I was nice? ‘Nice?’ Evidently, you think of me as a woman friend,” he joked. 

 

“And what is wrong with being nice?”

 

“Nothing. Thought you might like bad boys.”

 

[Name] let out a chuckle, “Name a bad thing you've done.”

 

“I've done quite a few bad things,” Arthur chuckled, thinking of some things he’d rather not say to scare off his lady-friend. He redirected her question to no longer be in the spotlight of the discussion. “Tell me one bad thing you've done, and it better be evil.”

 

[Name]’s face turned towards Arthur’s, her expression became... serious(?). “How evil?”

 

“Really evil,” Arthur answered, “For example, how many people have you brutally murdered?”

 

Even though he was joking and she was smiling in thought, Arthur couldn’t help but note the dark look that flickered across [Name]’s colored eyes before it reverted back to her playful self. “‘Brutal’ is a very subjective word. What's brutal to one person might be... reasonable to somebody else.” She concluded her statement by taking a bite out of her hot dog and looked towards the skyline of the city that reflected off of the water of the park's lake.

 

Out of nowhere, an older woman walked up to the couple, “Excuse me do you know where… where the…как ты скажешь...

 

"Как я могу вам помочь?" [Name] asked.

The old woman smiled, happy to know that someone can speak her language. "Я хочу найти ближайшую прачечную."

 

After [Name] gave out directions, the old woman gratefully went on her way to wherever she needed to go. Arthur stared at [Name] impressively, “Do you know Russian?”

 

“Yeah,” she responded hesitantly. "My old boyfriend taught me some of the language."

 

“Oh, this hurts. Not only are you extremely good-looking but you're also very smart, and that's no fair.”

 

“Bright women intimidate you?”

 

“No, no. Not at all. But it's a shame I'm going to have to destroy you.” Arthur’s playful smile curled into a smirk, causing her to playfully squeal and run away from him. Arthur followed in pursuit until she stopped to catch your breath, both laughing at their childish behavior. 

 

“What do you look for in a woman you date?” the (h/c) haired woman randomly blurted out. He didn't mind the question though, the whole time they've been together their attraction for each other grew and the air felt electrifying.

 

Arthur looked up at the sky in thought for a moment, “I know everyone always says a sense of humor, but I have to go with breast size.” He looked back down and smirked once more at the lovely woman in front of him.

 

She giggled, “Oh, my God.”

 

After laughing for a while, Arthur suddenly realized what time it was. “It’s getting late,”

 

“Yeah,” [Name] sighed, disappointed that she couldn't spend some more time with Arthur. “I had a lot of fun.”

 

“So did I.” Arthur offered her a gentle smile. Time seemed to have stood still as they both stared into each other's eyes, mirroring each other's emotions. They both hesitantly leaned their faces towards each other and Arthur gave [Name] the softest of kisses on her lips until he leaned in again and gave her a proper one, lips dancing in perfect sync under the moon.

 

\----------------------

 

Feet hit the pavement as a green-eyed Brit scanned the neighborhood to locate his new girlfriend's home, and hopefully spend a few minutes there before he needed to go practice with his bandmates. Ever since that night Arthur and [Name] and shared their first of many kisses, they became close and Arthur started a new ritual in his life: to spend a few hours at [Name]'s home and make her listen to some rock songs he has made or admired. With CD's in hand, Arthur stopped in front of [Name]’s door and rang the doorbell. 

 

No answer, so he rang again. 

 

‘She said she’ll be back by this time,’ Arthur shuffled around in his pockets and dug out a golden key which [Name] had lent to him so he could visit and stay at her house for as long as he pleased. 

 

“[Name]?” he called out as he stepped inside. He went towards the living space and was going to call out her name again when his voice got stuck in his throat. He made eye contact with another girl around [Name]’s age. She had platinum blonde, long hair pulled back in a high ponytail with a white crunchy and bright, blue eyes. She also adorned a pink t-shirt, acid washed jeans and teal tennis shoes.

 

“Uhm, hi,” Arthur said uncertainly, “do you know where [Name] is right now?”

 

“Oh, she’ll be back soon, but I don’t really know when. Uh, who are you?”

 

“I’m [Name]’s friend, Arthur,” he awkwardly waved at the strange girl.

 

“I’m one of [Name]’s old friends, Nattie.” Not knowing what to say next, Arthur shifted his weight from foot to foot and was about to announce his departure until Nattie piped up first.

 

“Let me make you some breakfast,” she leapt to her feet and ran towards the kitchen.

 

“Oh, I'd love to, but I'm running late,” Arthur said trying to escape the offer. Not only did he not know her, but he also felt guilty.

 

“How do silver-dollar pancakes, fresh orange juice, fried eggs, and a cup of Komodo Coffee sound?” she persuaded.

 

Arthur’s lips formed a straight line in thought before they carried out the words: “That sounds great.”

 

\----------------------

 

Arthur sat on the stool of the kitchen’s bar with disappointment etched into his face as Nattie poured some milk into a bowl of cereal, “Sorry. I didn't have those other things.”

 

“That's fine.” Arthur mixed the cereal around in the pool of milk, “I care for Apple Jacks a great deal.”

 

“Good.” She responded. 

 

Another awkward silence broke in until Arthur brought up a question. “So, you live here, too?”

 

“No, this is just [Name]’s. I sort of come and go, but always end up here,” she said doodling imaginary patterns on the countertop with her index finger. “She didn't speak of me?” she asked suddenly.

 

“No, she didn't ‘speak of you,’ but she mentioned a Russian guy?” Arthur reflected back on how [Name] stated she was taught Russian by her old boyfriend and wanted to know just who [Name] dated in the past out of mere curiosity (and definitely not out of petty jealousy).

 

“Oh, really? She spoke about him?” Nattie continued to stroke the table but with a lot more thought this time. 'Well, I didn't expect that answer,' he thought. Arthur began to feel anxious; he was running late for his band’s meeting that he scheduled. He gently put the spoon in his mostly empty cereal bowl and stood up.

 

Nattie also perked up and strode towards the front door, “I'm gonna go now, too. I won't tell [Name] that anything happened.”

 

“Well, Nattie, nothing did happen,” Arthur said, confused at Nattie’s words let alone her unexpected presence.

 

“Don't worry, Arthur. Just be careful,” she said with a gentle smile and left.

 

Arthur stood there more confused than ever. "Just be careful," he echoed to himself.


	2. Chapter 2

“Well, it's officially raining,” Arthur said as he held an umbrella above his and his companion's heads. 

 

Arthur and [Name] just had a lovely lunch together in which they talked, laughed, reminisced. Then between mouthfuls, Arthur tells a tall tale from his past. [Name] would join in too; she'd gossip about her co-workers from previous jobs and memories of her childhood. And that was it. She seemed to be avoiding a certain section of her life, but Arthur didn't feel too bad about it. It's been almost half a year, and the couple is still together, much longer than Arthur's previous relationships.

 

“It's just a drizzle.” [Name] replied, stretching out her hand to feel the gentle touch of the water. She looked so ethereal with the occasional streaks of thunder or the soft glow of street lamps lighting her face, her hand outstretched catching globules of water droplets running down the impermeable curves of the umbrella and onto her skin.

 

“I'm glad you're meeting my family tomorrow,” Arthur brought up looking at her excitedly. His smile caused her to laugh. Arthur had told [Name] so many stories involving his many siblings that she became so inclined to meet these colorful characters. 

 

I hope they won't be too much for her. Arthur knew how mischevious they can all be, but with [Name]'s amicable and dynamic personality all should end well.

 

“You know what, Arthur? It's strange,” [Name] suddenly spoke up. “But I feel really safe with you. Like in the movies when people never left each other. I mean, they stayed together forever.”

 

As soon as you said that, Arthur’s giddiness turned into a somber expression and the lightning suddenly seemed menacing. “Yeah, forever.”

 

\----------

 

Arthur just pulled up in front of his home and parked at the curb of the sidewalk. The red-brick house had ivy leaves forming intricate lines from the ground to some of the windows that emitted a soft yellow glow signaling that his siblings were bustling around the place. The house was also more tall than it was wide and barely had any space from the other houses on either side. There were no driveways in this area either, so everyone pretty much parked on the street and was always a pain to find a spot for your car.

 

"This place looks so cozy!" [Name] stared in awe and fawned over how homey it felt.

 

"Thanks," Arthur said, "I had to maintain this when my parents...um, left this behind."

 

Arthur could tell [Name] stared at him in concern as he fiddled with the key in his hand and inserted the lock. As soon as the pair entered the threshold, thundering footsteps could be heard. Rosie appeared at the entrance first and stared at (slim/curvy) figure beside Arthur in amazement before it melted into delight "You must be [Name]! Welcome to the Kirkland Residence!"

 

[Name] smiled at the energetic girl until felt a sudden weight on your shoulder, as if someone was gripping her harshly. Instinctively, she grabbed and twisted the arm the hand had belonged to. The next thing she knew, she heard accented yelps, “I give! I give! I'm Arthur’s eldest brother!”

 

[Name] immediately released the red-head male. “Sorry, I'm so sorry. You surprised me, sorry,” her cheeks began to feel warm at the fact she used a self-defense move on Arthur's relative in under a minute.

 

Allistair began massaging his shoulder and upper arm and looked at her impressively, “I like this one, Arthur. She's quite a filly.” Arthur couldn't help but feel a sense of pride surge through him; not only did she scare Allistair and gained admiration from his family, they were very accepting of her too.

 

“Allistair, put some trousers on!” Rosie yelled and covered her eyes, noticing her brother’s lack of pants.

 

“Alright, I will,” he grumbled marching off in his sheep printed boxers to get properly changed.

 

A moment after the awkward exchange, [Name] felt a pair of smaller hands grip one of hers gently and tilted her face downwards to see the adorable girl. “Come with me to the living room! I want to show you some of my paintings,” Rosie joyfully led you to the couch and rushed off to her room to get her paintings. 

 

Just as (nationality) female was going into the room until she was stopped by Arthur. “Uhm,” he thumb pointed behind him. “I need to go to the bathroom. You’ll be fine by yourself, right? I mean, the blokes can be pretty rowdy.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be fine,” she assured with a kind smile. Arthur just squeezed her arm gently in return and headed off to the washroom.

 

“Make sure there's enough paper, Arthur.” Allistair teased as he passed him by (this time wearing pants). “And Arthur, light a match!” 

 

Peter, who just came down the steps, thought it would be fun to join in on the teasing, “Are you away to crap, again, Jerkface?”

 

Arthur closes the bathroom door, leans against it, and shakes his head. What can he do? It’s his family. Arthur looked around the bathroom which he usually uses to get a break from his siblings or wash his face that literally cools his temper. It was the only place in the house that offered complete solitude. 

 

The Brit turned a knob on the faucet letting luke-warm water to run through the pipe and cupped his hands underneath to splash his face. He wasn't in any hurry to leave either. He listens through the door to [Name] and Rosie enthusiastically looking through his sister’s art. After wetting his face Arthur turns to the side to grab a towel.

 

On the wall opposite the toilet is a well-used dartboard to cure boredom. Hooked to the magazine caddie is a small container of darts and some towels to dry his face with. As he reached for the cloth, Arthur glances down at a stack of Enquirers - the newspaper Rosie thought was factual - on the magazine rack and decided to flip through a few for fun. Picking one up, he sees one of the absurd headlines: "ALIEN UFO SEX DIET" and shakes his head. ‘This is something that Alfred would probably believe in.’

 

Arthur chuckled himself then looks down at another article in the Enquirer and reads: "WHO'S KILLER LADY X" 

 

‘Hate to be the guy stuck with her,’ Arthur thought to himself as he read the article. Upon closer inspection, the article states that an axe-murderer killed a quite famous Russian martial arts expert and that his girlfriend committed the murder. A moment of staring blankly at the page passed until something in Arthur clicked. Didn’t [Name] say something about learning Russian? And didn’t she just pulled off a martial arts move on his brother? 

 

Arthur was so absorbed in the article until he was interrupted by obnoxious knocking, “Hey, Arthur, you didn’t fall in, did ye?”

 

\----------

 

Sitting in the front seat of Arthur's car, [Name] sat smiling and content after having a great meal, a great night out with Arthur, and a nice evening with his family. She giggled to herself at the funny things one of the Kirkland's had said, "I had a lot of fun tonight, Arthur."

 

"Mhm."

 

However, if one slowly pans over to see Arthur, he has a nervous, anxious, and a what-the-hell-am-I-getting-myself-into look on his face.

 

“So,” he broke the not-so-comfortable-silence, “that was some move you put on my brother. Did you study Karate, or...?”

 

“No. Not officially. I dated a guy for a while who ran a studio.”

 

“Oh, a martial arts expert.” [Name] didn't say anything so he assumed he was right. “Did he know Russian as well?”

 

“Look,” [Name] said in a light but concerned voice. “That’s a period of my life I don’t want to talk about.” 

 

Arthur nodded in response and stared straight ahead, completely avoiding eye contact. [Name] laughed, “Your family is really great, Arthur.” If she wasn't in an amused state, she would've realized the punk's unusual and apprehensive body language.  
He looked straight ahead gripping the steering wheel tightly, trying to act unfazed. But, he's very phased -- his expression is covered in it.

 

\-------------------

 

“Have you heard of this case?” Arthur passed the newspaper to his friend across the cafe table.

 

Last night, after dropping off his girlfriend, an unnerved English rockstar became so paranoid that he scheduled a meeting with an old friend who worked in the police department, Alfred F. Jones. They had both gone to college together and got along like cats and dogs, yet they still managed to form a friendship that lasted for years. 

 

The two of them sat outside in front of a welcoming cafe where they were being served their favorite drinks: Arthur's tea which hasn't been touched and Alfred's second cup of coffee. The light breeze, the gentle sun, and the pastel blue skies gave off a tranquil ambiance for the city today, the exact opposite of Arthur's inner turmoil.

 

After reading the headline and skimming the article, Alfred passed the newspaper back. “I never heard of it. So what?”

 

“Curious, that's all,” Arthur said hesitantly, “I read about it, and… I think I'm dating Lady X.” When the green-eyed Brit looked up, he sees Alfred giving him a blank look. 

 

“Two words, Artie: Therapy.”

 

“That’s one word, you idiot! And don't call me that!” he retorted as Alfred took a sip from his coffee.

 

“Whatever. The point is that they have doctors that deal specifically with this illness.”

 

“Listen, everything's adding up, Alfred. One of the victims was a martial arts expert. Last night at dinner, she put a martial arts move on my brother.”

 

“There about twenty thousand people in this huge town who are martial arts experts. Should I arrest all of them too?”

 

“If they also speak in Russian, I think it'd be a good start,” Arthur argued back. His blue-eyed American friend scoffed and grasped the newspaper once more to read the rest of the small story.

 

“This article also says that she was with a man named Matthias Kohler, who was an owner of a bar, and made a name for himself for mixing and creating one of the kind drinks until he was killed.” Alfred set the article down. “Can [Name] make these special drinks?” 

 

“Gee, Alfred, we haven't reached that critical 'hey what kind of cocktails can you make' part of the relationship right now. So I'm afraid I'm not much help.” 

 

“Arthur, you're scared.” 

 

“Exactly.”

 

“[Name] could be the one.”

 

“Yes!”

 

“And you suspect her because deep down you're scared that if she is the one you'll marry, and marriage to you is death.”

 

“No! That not what I.." the British punk groaned and slid his hand down his face. “Look, it's not a marrying thing, it's a murdering thing.”

 

“It is a marrying thing. You practically grew up in a broken home, your parents were always fighting and when they got divorced they left all of you guys behind to fend for yourselves. And that's what you're scared of!”

 

“Stop it,” Arthur warned.

 

“Your scared of trusting someone who you care so much for will reject you.”

 

“Don't bring that--”

 

“Like how you trusted your parents and they ran away from each other and you poor kids.”

 

“Hey!” Arthur slammed his hand on the table, shaking the silverware and the drinks resting on its surface. For the few people dining outside, they briefly glanced at their table before going back to their conversations.

 

“Sorry,” Alfred rubbed his temples and took a deep breath through his nose before he got back on topic. “Dude, move past it. You're ruining your life by reading the Enquirer.”

 

“What?” Arthur retorted defensively “I’ll have you know that it's the eighth-highest circulating newspaper in the whole wide world.” Arthur sighed realizing he had just quoted Rosie and folded up the newspaper, “Please. Look it up.”

 

“Fine, but listen to this,” Alfred said leaning in, “Most of these Enquirer articles are actually based on our own police reports. They take the facts and fabricate a story around them.” He reached over and patted Arthur’s back, “You feel better now?”

 

“I guess so,” Arthur grumbled.

 

\----------

 

The bedroom was only illuminated by the lamp on the bedside tables and from the screen of TV that was on some local news droning on in the background as Arthur sits on the edge of the bed alone tuning his guitar. That is until the anchormen started to say something rather... scary: "...the Justice Department reports an alarming rise in the number of poisoning murders. And that a large percentage of the murders occur within the family a scourge which seems to be reaching into every home..."

 

As Arthur absorbed the information with wide eyes, a string of his guitar sprung out and curled, as if it was mimicking the hairs rising on the back of his neck. He set his guitar down and continued to watch the news.

 

"...the most common poisonings occur between couples. For reasons as varied as insurance fraud, jealousy, and pure psychopathic behavior--" Arthur reached for the remote and turned off the TV, not wanting to hear any more. Annoyed and shaken, he climbed over to his side of the bed, turned off the lamp and rested on the cool sheets.

 

He started to reflect his day laying on his back. Was it fair to think of [Name] as some psychotic killer? Probably not. But still, it felt too coincidental for his liking. Just then, he saw her silhouette from the door frame of their shared bedroom smiling gently at him. They tend to spend some of the nights together in either home.

 

He couldn’t help to feel both guilty and scared as she crawled into bed next to him and kissed his cheek. “Had a good day?”

 

“Yeah,” he replied softly. [Name] snuggled up to him and began to trace the black, swirling, tattoos on his arms which actually caused him to feel calm; her touch was therapy to him and intoxicating even after all this uncertainty weighing on his mind. After a few bliss moments, she interrupted the silence. 

 

“You know what I like best about you? I can tell you anything, and you don't judge me.” When she noticed Arthur was patiently waiting for her to finish she continued. “Like, have you ever stood at the edge of a cliff or subway platform with someone and you thought just for a split second: what if I pushed him?”

 

With what's already going on in Arthur’s paranoid mind, he felt beyond terrified at that question. “Well, I follow the Judeo-Christian ethic of ‘thou shalt not kill,’ but that's just me.” Maybe if the situation wasn’t so serious, Arthur would have laughed at his own remark.

 

“Yeah, I know, but I'm just making a point of how many times we trust people with our lives.”

 

“L-like,” Arthur had to prevent himself from gulping, “what do you mean?”

 

“Well, you know, if you didn’t know me so well I would’ve just shanked you by now.” As [Name] said that she playfully and gently poked Arthur in the ribs, but that was enough to send him jolting out of the bed and landing roughly on the floor causing them to both yell in shock. 

 

[Name] quickly crawled over to the other side of the bed to see if he was hurt. When she realized he was okay, anger quickly consumed her. “Arthur! Jesus! I'm just showing you we have a good relationship!”

 

She quickly rolled back to your side and pulled the duvet over her body, back facing Arthur as he climbed back in bed. “I'm sorry,” he said as he laid on his side, knowing that he had upset her through his strange actions and the fact that he had scared her. 

 

He let his thoughts consume him wondering what he should do. Should he fear for his safety? Talk it out with you? Go to therapy? He just didn’t know.

 

\---------------

 

Upon entering the park, a slight breeze rustles the leaves making them fall to the solid ground one by one. Flowers are vast, and they conceal the freshly cut green grass. The pathway is nothing more than dirt littered with random rocks. the children are playing and the parents talking among each other. 

 

“Why did you have to see me so urgently? You couldn't come to my place?” [Name] asked.

 

“It's just safer here,” Arthur said as they walked up on the hill that had many locals lounging about on the grass. 

 

Arthur finally made his choice: no longer is he going to live in constant fear and no longer would make [Name] feel bad about herself in case he was wrong. 

 

He was going to end this.

 

“I'm sorry,” he abruptly turned towards his girlfriend, “I think you're a terrific woman. I just... I just don't think we should see each other.”

 

[Name] did a good job in concealing her emotions but her suspicion was evident and her eyes flashed with uncertainty. “Why?” she asked, “And tell me the truth.” 

 

“I'm afraid that you're gonna k--” Arthur paused as he gained control of his sentence, “Leave me.”

 

[Name] gave Arthur the coldest stare, that he thought the whole world was going to freeze over “I'm gonna _cleave_ you?" 

 

 _Oh shit, she is so pissed._ “What does that even mean, Arthur?!”

 

“No, not cleave! Leave! I meant leave me. That you'll reject me. So, I just thought I'd do a preemptive strike.” Arthur quickly lied.

 

“So you're rejecting me?” He could tell that [Name] didn’t believe him one bit. Arthur had too much confidence to freak out over a little thing like a rejection. 

 

The punk stared at his shoes guiltily and placed his hands in his leather jacket, “I didn't mean to hurt you. I never wanted to hurt you.”

 

“Don't worry, you haven't. At least you left early on.” [Name] gave a cold look. Did that mean something?

 

“So that's it, then?” [Name]’s sharp tone caused Arthur to look up at her and tried to conceal his own emotions with his own blank look he wore so well. 

 

“Because I gotta get back to work.” And with that, [Name] walked away from the park and out of Arthur's life.

 

\----------

 

One week had passed.

 

Two weeks had passed.

 

Three weeks had passed. 

 

...

 

Or was it four?

 

It didn't matter. Time has become a blur for the punk and he felt extremely guilty for what he had done. Guilt was eating and pestering him. A fire burned in his mind and throat. Remorse hit him like a sledgehammer. Day and night, thoughts about [Name] loomed over him no matter how hard he tried pushing those memories in the back of his mind. 

 

He huffed to himself as he stared up at the sky, laying on a lawn chair he propped up on the balcony of his building with a notepad on his knee and a pen lazily twirling in the other. His inspiration has gone dead too. Not a single lyric came to mind after his break up with [Name], meaning no new song. He even had his stereo on inside his apartment playing some rock song hoping he'd get inspired, but he was drawing a blank. Literally. He was glumly drawing imaginary patterns on the paper with his capped pen. 

 

The ringing of a phone interrupted his conflicted thoughts. Groaning, Arthur rolled off of the cheap lawn chair and walked inside his apartment. As he reached the device, he lowered the volume of stereo and answered the phone. “Hello?”

 

“Yeah, Arthur, it’s me.” A familiar American voice said. “This may not matter anymore, but some lady confessed to the murder of that Russian dude Ivan. Anyway, it looks like [Name] is in the clear.”

 

Arthur hung up the phone in excitement. Was Alfred right? Was he crazy all along? Bloody hell, he needs to get back with [Name]! But he can't just do that right? What was he going to say 'sorry I randomly broke up with you and probably humiliated you by doing it in a public area, I just thought you were a psychotic killer.'

 

...No. No, that won't work. C'mon, think! Think. Think. Think.

 

Arthur glanced around the room until his eyes landed on his guitar that he hadn't used for weeks. He went over and picked up the cool instrument. He then looked outside the sky and noticed how it was so... blue.

 

He smiled to himself as words started to race through his brain, forming a melody. He could almost hear the strums of the guitar and the beat of the drums. It may be a long shot, but at least he had to try.

 

\-------

 

The best way to describe this evening was chilly. [Name] pulled her jacket tighter across her chest in an attempt to be warmer. The soles of her shoes padded against the concrete of the sidewalk as she stared blankly ahead of her. She squinted as she realized a shadowy figure was in front of her. 

 

She paused and immediately planned to beat the tar out of her potential assailant until she recognized who was in front of you. It was the familiar green-eyed Brit. Arthur tried to act casual, but it was evident that he couldn’t do so. One hand ran through his tousled hair and the other was occupied, holding a stereo of some sort. 

 

“[Name],” Arthur addressed her politely. 

 

Annoyance was evident on the (nationality) woman's face. She didn’t like the idea of making small talk when she had a mission e.g. to go home, especially when it was intervened by her ex. “Arthur,” she greeted professionally. Arthur gently placed his stereo down and pressed the "PLAY" button. The snare of a drum was heard followed by the rhythm of a guitar and a familiar voice:

 

_Guess I got what I deserved._

 

The scene felt very awkward, especially for the female standing opposite of Arthur since they both know that this song was made just for her. [Name] shuffled her feet, hoping that it would magically teleport her to her house similar to the power of Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz. But this was real life and she had to confront things she didn’t like. Arthur stuffed both hands in the pockets of his signature jacket.

 

_Kept you waiting there too long, my love._

 

Even though they’ve been standing there for less than a minute it felt like hours. Time seems to slow when one is uncomfortable, making them desperate to escape. Arthur started thinking if this was a good idea. A million things ran through his head, but he didn’t know how to speak.

 

_All that time without a word._

 

[Name] decided to talk since Arthur couldn’t, “Why did you come back?” She asked firmly, but not scornfully. Arthur just made eye contact with her for a long moment, until he looked down as if the pavement. “Because what I’m interested in is right here.”

 

_Didn’t know you’d think that I’d forget,_

 

She looked at him in silence as his gaze settles on her face once more. Greeting her with the full force of is sharp green eyes that looked a lot darker at night, the exotic black flecks within holding the light. 

 

_Or I’d regret._

 

[Name] couldn’t help it and just smiled, shyly avoiding his eyes. Arthur took this as a sign to be relieved and walked closer. "I'm sorry," he stopped in front of the (h/c)-haired woman "I just got... got scared." [Name] gave him the gentlest looks that could have even melted the hearts of the most stubborn individuals.

 

_The special love I have for you._

 

Her (e/c) eyes said it all: she had already forgiven him, and out of impatience she flung herself back into Arthur's arms. Her punkish gentleman was more than happy to embrace her tightly. And just like the first time they declared their love, each held each other's hearts once more under the moonlit sky.

 

_My baby blue._


	3. Chapter 3

Even at twenty-six, he was like a little kid for his birthdays. Allistair Kirkland, Arthur's playful and boisterous brother grew a year older, and out of kindness Arthur and Rosie helped plan out his party. In the morning, Rosie made a pile of chocolate chip pancakes and its aroma caused Allistair to bounce out of bed as if he was still in grade school. Seamus, Dylan, and Peter had wrapped gifts the night before and presented them to their eldest brother, then he'd rip the paper off his wrapped gifts and exclaim that it was just what he wanted. 

 

Finally, it was time for Arthur to give him his gift, or rather take him to his gift. He had reserved a large table at Allistair's favorite restaurant for a dinner. The Kirkland siblings were there obviously along with close friends from his workplace, Alfred, and [Name].

 

"Hey," she greeted as he pulled out the seat next to her.

 

"Hey," giving her a one armed hug, he brought her close and placed a quick and subtle peck on her forehead. 

 

Arthur couldn't describe how relieved he was when [Name] accepted his apology through a song he wrote for her. He remembered that after they had gotten back together, he started to pour out his past, his fears, and other bottled up emotions. Maybe Alfred was right. Maybe he really was paranoid that he was going to get too close only to be abandoned in the end. 

 

Maybe his past made him scared...

 

His childhood wasn't that great. He didn't remember when, but his parents would always fight especially at night, arguing about how dinner wasn't properly cooked or the bills that had to be paid. Whatever the reason, Arthur would always dread the time of sundown. He always felt this horrible weight in his stomach, how he felt cold and nervous at his parents' yells. His older brothers would keep to themselves out of stress, making Arthur feel even more isolated. Peter and Rosie were both very young and weren't sure what was exactly going on. However, Rosie was smart enough to know something wasn't right with the family and would often feel scared. She'd only seek comfort with Arthur and they managed to create a strong brother-sister bond that they still had today. 

 

One day, Arthur's parents decided to have a divorce and had left the Kirkland children to fend for themselves. It was panicky at first, but there was also that sense of relief. No more hate, no more animosity, just surviving. But that feeling of betrayal lingered. Maybe this is why he was acting so irrational around [Name], but unlike his parents, he didn't leave behind who he cared most for in the world. 

 

After everyone figured that their parents weren't coming back, Seamus and Dylan had taken up minimum wage jobs (after lying about their age) in order to help support the family. Everyone had to ration food and supplies since they were extremely tight on money until Arthur became a successful local musician during his late teen years. But in the beginning, everyone relied on Allistair. He kept getting kicked out from one job to another due to his sometimes rude, blunt, and aggressive behavior, but finally settled as a bartender. With his helpful income and his position in the family, he became more as a father figure for everyone. The way he looked all scruffy and intimidating on the outside but was warm and gentle on the inside, the way he'd watch the sports channel with a newspaper in hand and a dwindling cigar in the other, the way he'd give Rosie and Peter piggy-back rides, would all resemble the father figure the Kirkland's never really had.

 

And this is why it's a big deal for them to celebrate Allistair's birthday. As annoying as he can be, he did a lot for them and they wanted to show their gratitude some way or another. Because there was no father figure for Allistair. Because he had no one to turn to or look up to when he was struggling. Every year, the Kirkland's would throw a large party for Allistair, even if he didn't know the real reason why.

 

Looking at the scene before him, Arthur smiled realizing how truly happy everyone is. He had seen what it took for the rich to be happy, yet for the poor, it was a slice of bread and shelter for the night. But from everyone he was with, it wasn't like that at all. Everyone at the table had an inner happiness, one utterly independent of the outside world. Each smile was like a burst from within instead of being worn like an obligation in the way others in the world did.

 

Arthur was so deep in thought he didn't see the birthday cake being set in front of Allistair. It was all chocolate like how it was every year. Raspberries circumscribed the dessert and the sparklers on top the cake sparkled as if they were miniature gold fireworks. And it wasn't complete without the words "Happy Birthday" written in white icing.

 

After blowing out the candles, Allistair had sliced into the cake and took out the first slice with a precision of a surgeon. The slices of cake were being passed out to everyone at the table who were laughing, telling tall tales and short jokes. 

 

This is what a family should be like. This is what life should be like. Arthur thought. His eyes landed on the woman who had charmed in the most unconventional place: a butcher shop. She was quiet and looked out at the scene with mirth in her eyes and back to Arthur. She was talking, but he didn't pay attention to what she was saying; he was just focusing on the smile that fit her so well.

 

“It must be a great feeling to have...You okay?” [Name] paused and looked at Arthur in a surprised manner when he grabbed her wrist.

 

“No, I'm not.” Arthur drew [Name] closer to him and leaned in closer to her in his seat so no one else could hear. “Marry me.”

 

Her eyes reflecting her indecisiveness and other mixed emotions “...No.”

 

“Um, please?” Arthur asked with a confused smile.

 

“But we've only been together for a year. Why not just live together? We could live together first. Let's just live together.” [Name] suggested sounding a bit worried.

 

“Because I love you,” Arthur whispered and held her hands in his slightly bigger ones. “We should get married and spend the remaining years of our life together. I want you to have my children...and I want you to have your children. That sounds like an awful lot of children, but... I love you. I need you. [Name]...be my wife.”

 

[Name] looked at him a concerned look which contradicted the blush fighting its way onto her cheeks. Before she could say anything, the sound of a glass being tapped with a fork was heard.

 

“Alright, everyone, shut your cake hole!” In the evening of his birthday parties, Allistair would sit up with a single malt whiskey and make a toast to another wonderful year of good health, good friends, and a great family - a recent tradition. 

 

“I'd like to make a toast to my li’l brother, Artie.” Allistair announced gaining the attention of everyone from around the table. “Thanks for throwing this great party and taking care of us. I hope you have some great years ahead of you, too.”

 

“To Arthur!” everyone cheered lifting up their beverage, before chatting once more on how great of a party this was. 

 

[Name] leaned in quickly whispered in Arthur's ear: “Yes.”

 

His eyes widened like saucers and turned to her with excitement bubbling in his chest and eyes. “You will?” 

 

[Name] nodded and wrapped her arms around Arthur as he embraced back. 

 

\---------

 

At the end of each seated aisle, jasmine scented candles hung from naked tree branches. The aroma heightened the lovely atmosphere of the outdoor wedding. The priest attending stood before a bride and a groom who stood at the altar to bless the holy marriage of Arthur and [Name]. 

 

Just a few hours ago, Arthur stood before a full-length mirror, fidgeting with the cufflinks of his attire and adjusted his dark green tie that matched his eyes. His tuxedo was black as ebony and made him look rather dashing. He looked different without the piercings and his less-tousled-than-usual-hair. He wondered if he looked too much like a prep or if he looked too mature for his liking. But he couldn't contemplate on his thoughts much longer for it was time to take a new step into life

 

But all his thoughts were pushed away once he saw his bride. [Name]'s white gown was covered in meticulously hand-sewn blossoms floating from the bodice down to the tiered skirt which had reached below her knees. She looked stunning with her dress's A-line silhouette and chic, off-the-shoulder neckline. The fingertip-length veil was flipped back for a more voluminous look and made her hair look like it was encased in a beautiful mist.

 

“...Now, Mr. Kirkland, if you will take this woman to be your wife through thick and thin, for better or for worse...please say ‘I do.’” Arthur was sucked back into reality as the priest cleared his throat to say the most important lines during matrimony.

 

“I do,” he smiled small.

 

“Now, [Name], if you will take this man through good times and bad forever and ever as your husband, please say ‘I do.’” 

 

Everyone looked expectantly at [Name] who stood there rigidly and lost in thought, at the same time it seems like she could feel all eyes on her. Her lack of a response started to put the audience, Arthur, and even the priest on edge. Everyone seated along the aisle, witnessing the spectacle seemed to have leaned forward in suspension. Seamus, Dylan, and Peter stared with their brows knitted in confusion. Allistair started to preemptively wince whilst Rosie quirked an eyebrow at the bride and groom.

 

“...I do.” [Name] finally answered. Allistair reclined back in his seat as Rosie put her hand to her chest and exhaled, followed by a few other sighs of relief from the audience. 

 

“Now, Arthur, kiss the beautiful bride.” the priest had concluded his statement and closed the book containing the wedding vows. Arthur brought [Name] close and gave a chaste kiss on her lips which received joyous applauds from family members and friends.

 

Allistair had shuffled out of his seat and stood before the crowd. Proudly showing off the traditional Scottish kilt he insisted on wearing, he shouted at the top of his lungs: “Let's get pissed!” 

 

His message was followed by many cheers.

 

\----------

 

“Omigosh, Rosie! You look so cute!!” [Name] squealed, giving her young sister-in-law a tight hug. Rosie had her hair in her short, curly trademark side-pony style except she had a white hibiscus flower tied to it. She also wore a short-sleeved, ivory dress with some gold embroidery work at the bottom.

 

"Thanks!" she chirped. "Arthur gave this to me as a present from last Christmas."

 

Speaking of the groom, Arthur stood by a table outside enjoying the scene with Alfred standing next to him. The party was in full swing and, no surprise, Allistair was already drunk and started to play "Do Ya Think I'm Sexy" with his bagpipes. Alfred and Arthur both laughed at his drunkenness.

 

“This is such a great party!” Alfred complimented, eyeing the beautiful arrangement, the funny scene before him, and the joyfulness radiating off of everyone's faces. 

 

“It is.” Arthur agreed happily.

 

“The marriage was beautiful.”

 

“It was.”

 

“Yeah. She's great, isn't she?”

 

“She's the best. She's incredible. How could I have thought that she was a killer?”

 

“Don't say that so loudly, you don't want to ruin your marriage on the first day, do ya?” Alfred gestured with his head. The Brit followed the direction and saw [Name] coming into view with two drinks in her hand. 

 

“Hey, boys~”

 

“Watch you got there?” Alfred asked.

 

“Drinks for you.” she smiled, passing out the drinks to their owner as she named them. “A Tequila Sunrise for my husband, and a Mean Grasshopper for the best man.” 

 

Alfred took a swig of the vibrant green beverage as Arthur looked at his drink. It was a wonderful example of how liquids with different specific gravities interact in a cylindrical container; different hues of red, oranges and yellows forming a sunrise in the glass.

 

Arthur, wanting to admire the taste of the drink as well, took a sip. “Mmm. This is really good!” 

 

“Thanks, I brewed them myself!” [Name] stated proudly, rocking herself back and forth on her feet.

 

When she said that, Alfred felt as if there was a pit in is stomach (and not the hungry kind). He felt his Addam's apple bob nervously in his throat as he swallowed some more of the drink that was already in his mouth. Arthur just stared at [Name] with amazement. “You can make your own drinks?”

 

“And mix! I learned from a guy who owned a bar back in the day. They're one of the kind drinks, by the way.” [Name] smirked and walked off to converse with high school and college friends she had invited. Arthur and Alfred both stared at each other, both knowing that they were thinking of the article.

 

“Nah~” they sang in unison. Arthur downed the rest of his drink and felt a little buzzed (his newly wedded wife was smart enough to only put the smallest amount of alcohol in his drink after all). “I'm gonna get some more food. Coming?”

 

Alfred shook his head politely, “I'm fine, thanks.” 

 

Arthur patted his shoulder as he stalked off in search of the dessert table to get another slice of the wedding cake. Meanwhile, Alfred couldn't help but feel paranoid. That was too coincidental for his liking; one of Lady X's victims was an owner of a bar who made 'one of the kind drinks' named Matthias Kohler. The victim before that was a Russian martial artist named Ivan Branisky. The article seems to be correlating with [Name]'s past since, according to Arthur, she could speak Russian, claims to have learned some martial arts from someone she was with previously, and can also make unique cocktails.

 

But she can't be a killer, right? First, from Alfred's own experience, she seemed like an honest and gentle person which gave him a mental block. Though she could be intimidating at times, he simply can't imagine her doing something so sinister. And secondly, a woman had already confessed to the murders months ago. Alfred breathed a sigh of relief; he almost had forgotten that last part! 

 

But he couldn't help but worry. Maybe he should look into the case once more, though he doubts he'd find anything...

 

“It's time for the send-off!” someone shouted. Alfred snapped his attention to the commotion and walked over to where the crowd was forming. Lo and behold, Arthur was behind the oversized fairing of his motorcycle wearing a pair of sunglasses. [Name] was trying shift her dress under her so she can sit behind Arthur so they can make their getaway, which was one of the reasons she wore a shorter-than-usual wedding gown. 

 

Alfred walked forward seeing Arthur twist the handle of his vehicle, revving up his motorcycle. “Hey, Arthur.”

 

Arthur and [Name] both looked up at Arthur with gentle curiosity in their eyes and happy smiling faces. Alfred felt a strange emotional combination of guilt, pity, and joy for the newlyweds. “You two have a good time, alright?”

 

Arthur's smile turned into a smirk, "You bet we will!"

 

Moving the bike forward with his foot, Arthur balanced the machinery as he turned the handle and with a pane-shattering roar, the powerful machine started to take off at a gentle yet thrilling pace. This solid and comfortable machine was with Arthur for years and there was no way he'd miss an opportunity to ride it on a special occasion. Besides, he is a punk, after all [Name] pressed herself against Arthur out of joy, excitement, and slight fear as he motorbiked swiftly and carefully home.

 

\---------

 

It was a typical day at the police station. Inside the facility, on the hazelnut desk of an office, sat a desktop computer, a notebook lying open, and a stack of papers sitting under a burger-shaped paperweight. Seated at the desk on a swivel chair was Officer Alfred F. Jones. 

 

It's been a few days since the wedding and Arthur and [Name] just went for their honeymoon. And out of curiosity and slight paranoia, the blue-eyed American thought it was best to re-open the case of Lady X's serial killings just to be safe. 

 

He hasn't heard anything new yet, and since it was somewhat of a slow day for him, he decided to skim through a few comic books just to take his mind off things. Alfred sighed and reached for another donut from a Shipley's box until he heard a knock at his office door.

 

“Hey, Alfred?” a male voice said.

 

“Yeah, Davie?” Alfred eyed the young, blond police officer standing in the doorway of his office. “I heard you were still snooping around with Lady X's case and decided to help out. You know that lady that confessed to Ivan's and Matthias's murder? She also confessed to other crimes: to the murders of Abraham Lincoln, Warren G. Harding, and Julius Caesar. She's a nutcase, Alfred! A nutcase!”

 

Alfred’s blue eyes opened wide “Oh, my God!” He quickly rushed to the police station’s computer room. ‘What if I just sent my best friend to his grave?!’

 

\-------------

 

[Name] sat in the passenger's seat of Arthur's car as they drove to their honeymoon destination and was thankful to have his snake bite piercings and eyebrow piercing back in. 

 

The newlywed punk would glance at his bride every so often. She had a serene but distant look on her face and was awfully quiet throughout the ride. Occasionally Arthur would ask if she was feeling under the weather or if something was weighing on her mind to which she denied, or he'd tell her a funny story which would keep a conversation going for a few minutes until they fell silent again.

 

Not that the silence was uncomfortable, but it was rather strange.

 

'Maybe she's just tired,' Arthur thought. He tried to hide his smirk as his mind drifted back as to why she would be tired: let's just say it had something to do with consummating the marriage. Arthur shook his head to concentrate on the road and realized he was nearing the hotel.

 

"We're here," he announced to [Name] who seemed to have snapped out of a trance. The hotel was a Victorian style building. It resembled a small manor, but much like the Tardis, it was bigger on the inside. Arthur wanted to treat [Name] to something fancy, but nothing too posh because otherwise, it'd be uncomfortable for the two of you. 

 

After the valet had taken the car away to be parked the garage, Arthur led [Name] inside the hotel through the twin doors that led into the lobby that were pristine white with golden handles. The floor was tiled in fine marble, which made every step echo and a chandelier made rainbow colors dance across the luxurious lobby. 

 

The couple made their way to the reception desk that was made of amber-colored wood and a green granite top with a rather young receptionist. As Arthur asked for the room key, he noticed how [Name] kept pinching her temple.

 

“You okay?” Arthur asked, rubbing his wife’s shoulder reassuringly. 

 

[Name] flinched at his sudden contact and stared at Arthur with shifty (e/c) eyes, “I have a headache.” The female then turned to the receptionist, “Excuse me, do you have a drugstore?” 

 

The receptionist politely replied and used his hand to point to the direction of the mini drugstore inside the hotel. [Name] quickly thanked the man and walked over to said destination. But not before she spun on her heel to face Arthur.

 

“Don't move,” she said in a dark and stern voice.

 

Both Arthur and the receptionist watched [Name]'s figure disappear as well as the sound of her heels clicking against the floor until the receptionist smirked, “You really think she has a headache?”

 

“What?” Arthur asked confused.

 

“Nothing. Here's your key. Oh, and by the way, there's a storm coming this way. Nothing too strong, but we tend to lose signals around here.” Arthur pocketed the keycard in his jacket and thanked the man for his information. ‘Right, now for dinner.’

 

\---------------

 

The servers moved around the newlyweds and many other customers, keeping the platters and glasses full. Ocean delights drizzled in sauces or begging to be dipped in spicy concoctions and countless cheeses, slices of bread, vegetables, sweets, waterfalls of wine, and streams of spirits that flicker with flames were all being offered at the hotel’s high-end restaurant. 

 

Arthur and [Name] sat at their table that was covered in a white sheet with a simple red rose in a vase and eating utensils on either side as they conversed. Well, Arthur was doing most of the talking whilst [Name] responded with hums, a forced smile, or not at all. She had this dark look in her eyes and seemed rather... meditative.

 

'Something doesn't seem right,' Arthur said to himself in his head. 'Was it something I said? Was it something I didn't say?'

 

He didn't feel like he did or said something offensive. If anything, [Name] was in the wrong for her mysterious actions. In fact, when they were first seated, Arthur excused himself to go to the bathroom to wash up. Unbeknownst to him, [Name] watched him emotionlessly like a hawk and decided to stalk him like a panther. She had followed him until she stopped short of the hallway and watched him disappear into the men's room, peering from the side of the wall.

 

However, Arthur did feel like something was up especially when he left the bathroom and thought he saw [Name]'s face staring at him from around the corner, just for a split second. But when he reached his table, it looked as if [Name] hadn't moved a muscle and was simply admiring the floral arrangments. 

 

“There's a phone call for you, sir.” A waiter suddenly said holding out the hotel phone to Arthur and interrupting him from his inner debate. “They said it was urgent.” 

 

Arthur hesitantly took the phone, hoping that nothing bad happened at home. “Oh, thank you. Hello?”

 

“You okay?” Alfred said, or rather shouted, into the phone.

 

“What is it now?” Arthur sighed exasperatedly. ‘Of all times, he has to call now.’

 

“Artie, listen to me.” Alfred said in a serious tone that was completely out of character for him ”[Name] is Lady X.”

 

“She killed those guys. I faxed her picture to all the martial art studios around town, and one checked out and I even managed to contact some of Matthias friends to confirm it. It's her, Arthur. She's the murderer.” 

 

And that is when all the color had flushed out of his face. Arthur’s face paled and [Name] seemed to have taken notice as her posture became more rigid and tense. “Arthur. Your food is getting cold.”

 

Arthur waves "one minute" to [Name], as she watches him suspiciously, with dark eyes and her hands folded neatly under her chin. Not being able to handle the intimidation, Arthur swiveled the other way and spoke into the phone. "What should I do?"

 

"Relax~ When the time-a comes, you'll know-a what to do," said a middle-aged Italian man seated behind him, thinking Arthur was asking him for some sexual advice. 

 

The Brit muttered a sarcastic 'thanks' and turned back in his seat avoiding those (e/c) eyes staring him down, letting out an anxious sigh.

 

“I called the police,” Alfred continued. “It'll take a while. Just stay where you are, Arthur.” 

 

“Arthur?” [Name] was now curious to know what he had heard, but the way she had said his name sounded menacing.

 

The strong winds outside caused the old limbs of the trees to creak and sway and even broke off a damaged branch that had hit the phone lines, causing the device in Arthur's to lose its signal. 

 

“Hello?” Arthur’s whole body tensed up. “Hello?!” 

 

“Arthur?! What happened?” [Name] asked. It was pretty unnatural to see a cool and composed punk turn very frantic.

 

“The phone died! I was talking, and it died.” Arthur tried to level his voice

 

“It's common during storms, sir. It will be out until tomorrow.” The waiter took the phone away, unaware of Arthur’s riled up state. The punk started to feel faint; it's not like he had his phone with him, he left it up in the room to charge. Wait, maybe he can make an escape. Maybe he can make an excuse to go to the lobby.

 

“Since we have many traditions here, let's put our newlyweds in the honeymoon chair!” Great, just what he needed. A surprise from the hotel. A few waiters came out with an embroidered chair that could seat two and the other diners seemed thrilled at the event.

 

“No, I haven't had my dessert yet.” Arthur protested, but his complaints fell on deaf ears as waiters and the crowd dining around them were cheering them on. Both Arthur and [Name] were forced into the so-called honeymoon chair and were carried away from the restaurant and up the grand, carpeted stairs of the hotel, and predictably to their room.

 

As they approached the room [Name] and Arthur both got off of the honeymoon chair. The (h/c) woman immediately started opening the room and went inside, leaving the door ajar for Arthur. The crowd following them quickly dissipated except for one of the hotel staff members.

 

“Have a good night~” A bellboy stated as he was walking away.

 

“Stay for a nightcap?” Arthur pleaded. 

 

“Oh, no. You two want to be alone.” The bellboy started to walk away once more. 

 

“No, really. Stay for a nightcap.”

 

“I really shouldn't.” The bellboy began to feel very uncomfortable with Arthur’s request. 

 

“STAY FOR A NIGHTCAP!” This demand caused the bellboy to run away yelling the word 'creep,' the exact opposite reaction Arthur wanted.

 

Suddenly, Arthur was yanked into his dark bedroom by his arm and stumbled to find his footing as [Name] locked the door securely. Emerald eyes took in the surroundings: The corkscrew, the letter opener, the fountain pen. At this point, everything in the room looks like a potential weapon. [Name] turned to him with a wild look in her eyes, “Arthur, there's something I've been meaning to tell you.”

 

“[Name], l, l…” Arthur backed away with each step his terrifying wife took. He looked behind him and saw an ax gleaming menacingly at him, next to the logs of the fireplace. “...I think I already know.”

 

“You know?”

 

“Yes.” Arthur said nearing the ax, “How you killed the other men you were with.” With that declaration, Arthur lifted the ax and held it defensively. “Stay away from me!”

 

“What are you doing?!” [Name] shouted.

 

“Stay away from me!” 

 

“You don't understand. Give me the ax!” [Name] leapt towards the weapon, but Arthur quickly maneuvered her and forced her into the closet and blocked the door with a chair.

 

“Don't go!” [Name] pleaded desperately, “Arthur! Arthur!” 

 

Arthur rushed over to where the phone was in the room, but stopped when he saw a note next to it:

 

 

_Dear [Name]. I just can't handle the commitment. It's too hard. I'm leaving you._

 

_\- Love, Arthur_

 

An intense look of confusion crossed his face, ‘I didn’t write this.’ 

 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw something swing at him and got out of the way. An ax had swung down on the phone and got stuck in the hard plastic. Arthur’s eyes traveled to the owner of the ax: she had platinum blonde hair and bright blue eyes. 

 

“What the fuck?! Nattie!” Her appearance was much different since she was wearing a dark blue dress with tights and a black bow.

 

“What? Natasha?! Arthur, open the door!”

 

“Shut up! I wrote this note! You're not to be here when this note has been placed on the desk! Do you understand me? You're taking her away from me, Arthur. Like how she took my brother away from me and how he took her away! My best friend! I couldn’t let my brother who left me, take my friend to. Nor the man after him! I HAVE HAD IT!” Natasha swung at Arthur again, near the doorway where Arthur was standing. 

 

Natasha let out a dry chuckle, “You are going to die.”

 

As the real psychotic killer tried to pry the ax out of the table she swung at, Arthur went to the other side of the room where the window was and smashed it open with a swift kick. He crawls out through the opening, sharp glass scratching at him and his clothes as he scrambles for safety. By this time, Natasha managed to free her weapon once more and followed Arthur onto the roof.

 

Arthur tightropes along the ledge of the building as the strong winds continued, making it more difficult for him to continue. Natasha comes out on the ledge and starts to chase him as he rounds the bend. Arthur races along the slippery ledge, almost falling at several points. Natasha managed to appear in front of him by taking another path on the roof holding the ax and nearing Arthur.

 

\-----------

 

Thundering footsteps could be heard approaching the honeymoon suite and the door once standing in it's place was kicked open, causing splinters to fly. “Arthur?!” Alfred shouts with his gun drawn.

 

His ears perked up to the muffled yells and thumps from the closet, “Alfred? I’m in here! We have to help Arthur!”

 

The blue-eyed, blond American cautiously removes the chair from the closet and opens the door to reveal a frantic [Name], “You gotta get on the roof! They’re on the-”

 

Alfred interrupts her by quickly cuffing her. 

 

“What are you doing?!” she shouted. “We gotta go on the roof. Arthur and Natasha are on the roof. Arthur's on the roof!” Her truth fell on deaf ears. 

 

\----------

 

Arthur stood very still, staring at the crazed woman in front of her. Her blue dress was torn at the bottom, her hair was frizzy, and her blue eyes were bloodshot gleamed matching the crazed smile that was blasted on her face and the sharp weapon she carried.

Natasha started to speak, mostly to herself and slurring most words, “Did you like your note? I thought it was pretty accurate. I did all the boys' notes. And you know what I'm most proud of? [Name] never knew. She thought they all just left her. I protected her. She's my friend.”

 

She was [Name]'s first fiance's sister and she got rather close to her especially with the passing of her elder sister, Katyusha. She started to become very clingy towards the (nationality) female, especially since Ivan kept giving her the cold shoulder due to her dependency issues and crazed obsession over him. So when he proposed to [Name], something in Natasha snapped. She felt betrayed that the two people she cared most for in the world were moving on without her. Out of rage, she had secretly murdered Ivan and left a forged note behind to make [Name] think he had left her. 

 

To punish her further, Natasha even targeted [Name]'s second fiance, Matthia Kohler, in a similar fashion. After those tragic events, [Name] began to keep to herself until she met Arthur. At first, she was always scared of letting him and feared that he was going to leave her, but was luckily proven wrong. 

 

Arthur stood straighter, blood running down his face caused by the shards glass scraping his forehead. He was completely determined not to have anymore spilled. Gritting his teeth, he leapt up to another ledge of the roof as Natasha chases him, swinging the ax.

 

\---------

 

Alfred had escorted [Name] out of the hotel causing quite a stir with the residents at the inn and dragged her outside where several police cars were parked and men in blue were waiting for her.

 

“Let's just take this down a notch,” Alfred said as he held [Name]'s arm in a much stronger grip compared to the handcuffs around her wrists. “What you're saying is that your one of your friends killed your late boyfriends - one who was also her brother - so she can prevent you from leaving her?” [Name] sighed at Alfred’s questioning as he could be quite dense at times. 

“Yes. Listen, they're up on the roof. Listen!”

 

“You don't get it, do you?” Alfred said. “We can talk here, or we can talk about it downtown.”

 

“No, please! Listen!” Just as [Name] was getting pushed towards the car, her instinct told her to look back at the hotel. When she did, she caught a familiar mop of blonde hair fleeing for his life. 

 

“Look!” she shouted.

 

Alfred sighed and decided to look up. That's when his eyes widened and saw the fight getting taken place in front of him “Oh my God! Arthur?!”

 

The green-eyed Brit rushes on, hastily pursued by Natasha. She pulls the ax back and swings, nearly catching Arthur. But the momentum of the swing pulls her feet out from under her, and on the slippery roof she falls and starts to slide.

 

Below, gasps erupted from the crowd that had gathered outside. Alfred made a straight line with his lips and charged back inside the hotel and [Name] could only look with worry.

 

Just as Natasha was about to fall off the fifty-foot-high roof, Arthur climbs down the roof and stands over her. She's about to slip, her hands are losing strength and her fingers slipping. But he walks over to where she's hanging on for life and leans down to help her up.

 

As he grabs on to her hand, the drainpipe she's holding onto slips. She is now dangling from the roof, the rain falling harder and harder. Arthur is now is nowhere near her. He then gets down on his knees on the roof and starts to climb down the side of the drainpipe to get her. Natasha looks up helplessly at him not really asking for his help and not denying it. She's accepted her fate.

 

Policemen and spectators have gathered below in bunches as Arthur climbs down the drainpipe, he himself hanging on for dear life. He just reaches out far enough to grab her hand, and just as he does, her drainpipe tears and falls into the crowd below. Arthur, then with all his strength -- his "where has this strength been my whole life" strength -- pulls her up to the roof next to him.

 

Several policemen led by Alfred made their way onto the roof and come over to where Arthur is detaining Natasha. The police take her, handcuff her and cart her away. 

 

From the corner of the roof appears Alfred. “Arthur! You okay bud?”

 

“Yeah, I'm okay,” he breathed, still processing what had just happened.

 

“C'mon, let's get you back downstairs. [Name] is worried about you."

 

Alfred helped his best friend up and led him back down to the entrance of the hotel lobby. Just as he stepped out he heard his name being called out.

 

“Arthur!”

 

He caught the familiar locks of (h/c) swaying as the figure of the woman he loved runs towards him and tackles him in a hug. Arthur embraces her back until she pulls back and checks his face for the cuts.

 

“[Name], I'm so sorry. I thought you were- I thought- I'll explain everything.” Arthur stuttered.

 

“You don't have to,” she smiled at him, elated to see that he's okay. Plus, she's sure she'll hear a full explanation later.

 

They watched in shock and tightened their grip on each other as they watched Natasha getting placed into a police car and taken off. The sirens disappear and so did the crowd, leaving [Name] and Arthur in each other's arms accompanied by the presence of Alfred and a few other police officers. 

 

\------(Using Second Person POV because it's easier for me)---

 

You were getting a special treat from Arthur and his band Murder At The Cathedral. After that horrifying experience at the hotel you were at, Arthur thought it was best to head home and suggested to plan another honeymoon destination just to make it up to you. But you declined his offer, stating that anywhere with him was fine and would much rather hear him play live.

 

Throughout the course of their relationship, you have heard many of songs, but they were all recorded and played back to you through CDs and mixtapes. But finally, you were seeing Arthur in his element. 

_There she goes, there she goes again_

 

Arthur’s band usually plays grudgey and heavy songs. But this song, another serenade that was dedicated to you, was lighter and upbeat - matching the emotions Arthur had for you and how you affect him like a drug - and it was titled 'There She Goes.' 

 

The crowd, though not used to hearing rock songs like this, liked the energy emitting from it and decided it was a nice change and a nice way to end a performance. As he sang into the microphone his eyes captivates yours, making your heart skip a few beats. His eyes shone with intensity similar to how the light reflected off of his lip and eyebrow piercings.

 

When had Arthur finished the song by repeating the chorus and strummed out the last note of his guitar, the audience in the nightclub applauded and whistled. Arthur and his band members started to move some of their appliances off stage with the help of a few technicians. Smiling at the performance, you disappeared backstage to greet your husband.

 

As soon as you entered the dimly lit room behind the stage, you felt two arms wrap around you. 

 

"So, what did ya think?" Arthur asked in your ear, speaking with his funny Cockney accent he occasionally tries out.

 

"I loved it," you gave him a quick peck on the lips and giggled as his face dusted pink. "Maybe I'll consider forgiving you for thinking I was an ax murderer."

 

Arthur's eyes flew wide open, "If you were in my shoes, you'd see how convincing all the signs were! Besides, I said I was sorry." He grumbled out the last part still embarrassed. 

 

"I was just teasing~" you smiled. You tried to hide the frown that nearly surfaced as you remembered your past lovers. Poor Matthias and Ivan, you were so mad at them because you originally thought that they had left you a few months after they promised to marry you. And ow realizing their terrible fate, you felt this guilt that started to weigh upon your heart. 

 

Arthur caught the look and raised your face by cupping his fingers under your chin. He drowned in every feature of your face from the way your (s/c) skin glowed, the way those (e/c) orbs shone, and the way your (h/c) framed your face. You also gazed upon his handsome face decorated with the piercings on his thick, dark brow and under his supple lips. He gave you a wonderful smile causing you to smile back, knowing that everything was fine now and how things will get better with time. 

 

"Let's go. I bet everyone's waiting for us." Arthur had his guitar strapped behind his back and towed you out of the building by your hand. You giggled and rested your head on his shoulder as you contemplating on your next destination: the Kirkland residence. You could imagine Allistair being rambunctious as ever towards Arthur, Dylan, and Seamus telling tales of some amazing pranks they orchestrated, and Peter and Rosie annoying each other. 

 

Neither of you expected the insanity that came with the marriage nor the beautiful love that blossomed each step of the way.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a 1993 cult film/rom-com movie: So I Married An Ax Murderer starring Mike Meyers (same guy in Austin Powers)
> 
> Songs Arthur sings:  
> 1st Chap: Muscle Museum by Muse  
> 2nd Chap: Baby Blue by Badfinger  
> 3rd Chap: There She Goes by the Boo Radleys
> 
>  
> 
> Wedding Dress I had in mind: https://www.bhldn.com/shop-the-bride-wedding-dresses/emerson-gown/productoptionids/b8df1319-232a-4c6f-a05d-cdf74da57ed1  
>  I also got inspired by a vintage picture I saw on this website that had a couple from the 1980's have a biker wedding. It looked pretty cool: http://www.viralitytoday.com/vintage-photos-of-best-moms-ever
> 
> I do not own Hetalia


End file.
